


Yes Mr. President

by shakespearianfoolboy



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Enemies, Ghosts, Lore - Freeform, L’manberg, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot - Freeform, lava rising, mcyt - Freeform, water rising, wholesome Tommy and Tubbo brother content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearianfoolboy/pseuds/shakespearianfoolboy
Summary: Pre Nov. 16th, just after Quackity and Tommy convinced Wilbur not to blow up L’Manberg in favour of Quackity’s plan to trick Schlatt.Schlatt sends Wilbur a message to come alone to L’Manberg to speak with him. It’s soon made very clear that speaking is not all that he has in mind.What does he really care about, after all?
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Schlattbur
Comments: 54
Kudos: 573





	1. Chapter 1

Wilbur shuffled around Pogtopia. He dragged his feet as he paced along the corridors, up and down stairs, and idly checking on the farm. Agreeing to do Tommy’s plan was risky. He wasn’t sure if he regretted it or not. To be fair it was a very ‘Tommy’ plan in nature. It almost made him laugh to think about it. Almost. If not for the resounding desperation that permeated the air surrounding him, he’d have probably not stopped laughing since he first learned about the plan. It was such a stark contrast to his.... plan bomb. At the very least it was... definitely unexpected.  
The way they planned to put their plot into action- trick Schlatt into signing a building contract that would give them the rights to L’manberg- it seemed to make sense. Which was why it was all too unsettling when Wilbur received a direct message. From schlatt himself.  
‘Come to the podium. I’ve got to talk to you. Don’t tell anyone.’  
A chill ran up Wil’s spine. Fuck. That doesn’t bode well at all. Whatever plan Schlatt had would probably lead to Wilbur’s own untimely demise. On the one hand....... y’know, death. On the other hand...... maybe Schlatt had something important to say. Some kind of info that only he was privy to? That he only wanted Wil to know?  
That made no fucking sense at all. But even knowing that, Wilbur slowly and methodically places all his items in a chest. He’d always had a bit of a weak spot for the ram bastard. He would never tell Tommy, or anyone else for that matter, but he and Schlatt had a very coloured past. They had survived great ordeals together, a world that ended in fire and one that ended in water. The only constant come hell or literally high water, was that the two of them were together. They didn’t always agree but that was neither here nor there.

It seemed nowadays that the Schlatt that holds the title of president is a completely different person than the ram boy Wilbur once new. Of course Schlatt was no stranger to betrayal, he’d left Wilbur for dead countless times. But there was always... a kind of jovial lightheartedness to it. Never before had Wilbur been unsure of wether when it came down to the wire, Schlatt would save him when he needed saving. Even when Schlatt was sworn in as president Wilbur held a small spark of hope. At least it was someone that he knew, y’know? Someone with good survival instincts, good at business. Someone that maybe, just maybe, would have respected their past together.  
But that all went away the moment the word ‘revoke’ exited Schlatt’s mouth. It was an actual betrayal, clean and simple. It wasn’t funny, or playful, or shrouded in banter as all their past interactions had been.  
It just..... hurt.

Wilbur had spent an embarrassing amount of time disbelieving. Choosing to believe that Schlatt was just... making a funny joke! Just making a funny joke and any moment he would laugh and say “Gotcha Wilbur! Oh man, the look on your face-“ and then they’d both laugh and hug and everything would be alright again. Tommy and Techno were family sure, but Schlatt... god, the two of them had figured out the world together. That’s not the kind of bond that Wilbur took lightly, though clearly he wasn’t reciprocated in that notion.

And even now, as Wilbur trekked through the tunnels towards L’Manberg, he couldn’t help but feel a similar spark of hope to the one on Election Day. It was the same naïve whale-loving music boy inside him that had trusted the ram boy with his life.

But there’s a reason both those boys are dead now.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Wilbur had made it to L’Manberg, the evening sun had begun to set in a shadowy dusk. He nervously glanced around, wondering if he would be seen. If that even mattered since he was directly summoned. Most of him hoped nobody would see him, and yet a small part of him ached to see his son again. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be so rude to Fundy. Maybe this time he could stop and listen and just be with his son. But knowing himself, Wilbur knew he’d fall right back into old patterns. Shaking his head to be rid of the thought, he slowly climbed the hill adjacent to the podium. When he reached the top, he did indeed see Schlatt lounging on what could only be described at this point as a throne.   
The bars and concrete used to trap Tubbo had been taken down, probably by Wilbur’s own son. Schlatt slumped on the throne, looking bored, thumbing a golden coin with an S on it as if lost in thought.

The moment Wilbur’s boots hit wood, Schlatt’s fluffy ears twitched and perked, and he put the coin away. Schlatt stood and turned to look at Wilbur, who was approaching from behind the throne.  
“Hey Loverboy, long time no see. Ya look like shit.” Schlatt said, with the usual snide mirth in his voice.  
Wilbur sighed but it quickly turned into a small laugh. “You’re not looking too good yourself. Not anymore anyway.”  
And it was true. Schlatt’s suit was rumpled and crinkled, and it looked a little too big. Had Schlatt lost weight? His tie was untied, hanging loose around his neck and his eyes had dark circles under them.  
Schlatt didn’t seem to like the fact that Wilbur had acknowledged any of this though. He scowled and said “Yeah well, some of us have real responsibilities. Running a country over here, ya know? Not that you’d be familiar with the experience.” Schlatt let out a laugh that Wilbur could swear sounded strained. But that could just be his imagination.  
“Well, yknow Schlatt, dealing with stress is important when working in politics. Maybe you’re not quite fit for the job after all, hm?”  
Schlatt mockingly sneered at Wilbur for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes. “God, you wish, Loverboy. You want this piece of shit country so bad. I guarantee you could build a better one from scratch at this point.”  
Wilbur looked around, utilizing the view from the podium. He had to admit- the land looked amazing.   
“Well I’ve sort of had to, haven’t you heard? That’s all your doing, making me start over.”  
Jschlatt sighed and took a couple careless swoopy steps towards Wilbur.  
“Oh I know Wilbur. I know about Pogtopia, and your little pig ally, and your big big plans. And you’re- god, your, like, ARMY of children.”  
Wilbur laughed again, and immediately detested himself for doing so. This wasn’t catching up time. This wasn’t rekindling friendship. This was his enemy. His literal betrayer. And yet- something about the familiar over-the-top purposeful lack of charisma and the silly one-liners triggered an almost Pavlovian response in Wilbur. This is what happened when life was happy and good. This is what happened when smiling was easy and there were no countries or tyrants or wars to worry about.   
Wilbur took a moment to compose himself.  
“You called me here Schlatt- what do you want?”  
Schlatt, seemingly either unaware or uncaring of the tonal shift in Wilbur’s voice smiled and took more prancing steps towards Wilbur.  
“That’s the question, isn’t it, Loverboy? What do we want. I’ll tell you what I want- economy and loyalty. This whole country, its- it’s basically a means to an end. I’m the president so I’m in the perfect place to make lots of money and get lots of loyal followers to my cause. Like a really good pyramid scheme.”  
Wilbur frowned. “So what, that’s it? Government’s a pyramid scheme, that’s what you wanted to tell me?”  
Schlatt stood now side by side with Wilbur, facing the opposite direction. He looked upwards to the sky and then closed his eyes and sighed.  
“No, well, you see...”

In a single second he whipped around sideways and pushed Wilbur by the shoulders against the back of the throne. Despite Schlatt’s seemingly thin form, he was still remarkably strong. Had he been lifting weights or something?  
With one arm, Schlatt had pinned Wilbur across the chest, forearm spanning the length between his shoulders. With the other arm Schlatt had grabbed both of Wilbur’s wrists and held them against the throne, to the left of his body.   
Schlatt smirked and leaned in close, whispering in Wilbur’s ear. His breath was hot and smelled like whiskey.  
“Here’s the thing, Loverboy. Long term investments don’t last forever. Sooner or later this nation is going to burn out and I’m not gonna be the one who’s sitting up here when it does. Due to... recent events, I’ve taken Quackity out of the running for next in line, which by such a very funny set of circumstances, makes your Son next up.”

Wilbur stared Schlatt square in the eyes. The sideways pupils had always unnerved him, but now they were positively freakish paired with the crazed grin of the ram.  
Wilbur gritted his teeth. “And? What does that have to do with me?”

Schlatt laughed a low laugh, right in the back of his throat, and narrowed his eyes. “It means you’ve a got a cut and dry way back into this country. You see, I was sitting here, contemplating that, when I realized something. You wanna know what it is, Loverboy? Do you wanna?”  
Wilbur bit the inside of his bottom lip nervously. He was NOT in a good position to be speaking out right now, so he just nodded.  
Schlatt grinned.  
“I realized I care about more than the economy. More than loyalty. I care about YOU. I care that you will never be allowed to set one god damn fucking British foot in this nation unless I say so, LONG after I’m gone. It’s about integrity, Wil. I care that my word is law and the only thing that throws a wrench in that plan is you, my good old fashioned Loverboy.”  
Wilbur knew he had to say something, so he opened his mouth, and to his surprise a spiteful laugh came out.  
“So what, Schlatt? You gonna kill me? After all this, after all the work? Just gonna get rid of your problems like that? God, did you even think this through? What are you gonna fucking do, huh? Gonna lock me up? Where? Who’s gonna build a prison? You got rid of Tubbo! God, see that’s my problem with you! You never think about how you’re gonna end things! You just jump in headfirst without even thinki-“  
Wilbur was abruptly cut off by a rough kiss. Schlatt, eyes closed, head tilted ever so carefully as not to hurt Wilbur with his horns, had pulled Wilbur into a kiss. Slowly his grip on Wilbur’s hands loosened, though the pressure on his chest did not. When he pulled away, the two just looked at each other for a moment, both apparently equally shocked at the events that had just transpired. Immediately Schlatt stumbled backwards away from Wilbur. He looked scared for a moment, so much like the ram boy Wilbur once recognized. And then the hard, guarded expression went back up. “You never shut up.” He said.  
Wilbur was still leaning against the back of the throne, unsure if he should, or would even be able to move.  
“Schlatt, what- why-“  
“You need to leave. You’re not allowed to be here.”  
Wilbur stood, shifting his weight back into his own feet.  
“Wait a fucking second-“  
“LEAVE. You’re EXILED.”  
Wilbur and Schlatt both stood, staring each other in the eye. Then Wilbur nodded, and started descending the hill. He could see from a distance that Schlatt had resumed his position on the throne, but instead of holding the coin, he was holding his cheek, and staring dumbfounded into the sky.

Wilbur touched his own face, for a moment just as dumbfounded as the ram, and then turned and descended into the tunnels to make the trek back to his makeshift home.


	3. Chapter 3

“Wilbur? Hey, are you alright?”  
A stout voice snapped Wilbur out of his haze and back to attention. He was sitting in pogtopia, just staring at the wall. Tommy was looking at him, concerned.   
“Uh- yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. How long was I-?”  
“I dunno. Couple of minutes. Something up with you?”  
Wilbur sighed. “Just the usual. It’s exhausting, going crazy, y’know?” He smiled, giving a silly grin to Tommy.  
Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Have you considered NOT going crazy? That might be helpful.”  
Wilbur held up his hands in a very ‘well, what can ya do?’ way and said “I thought about that but it seemed so boring. And at least this way I get what I want.”  
Tommy’s face turned thoughtful for a moment, and then said “What DO you want, Wil?”  
Wilbur opened his mouth, ready to give the same old speech about how if he can’t have L’Manberg no one can, but then images from the other night popped into his head. Schlatt pinning him against the back of the throne. How soft his lips were despite the roughness of every other thing about him. How he had said, more or less, that he cared about Wilbur. Schlatt didn’t know what he wanted, clearly. But... did Wilbur? He was so sure of his decision, so resolute in his conclusion but after all this time... could he be misleading himself?  
“Wilbur?”  
Again, Wilbur snapped out of his haze. “Sorry, sorry. Maybe I’m really tired. I should probably sleep.”  
Tommy crinkled his nose, and smiled, saying “Or maybe you’re just going senile like old JSchlatt.” He laughed.  
Wilbur chuckled, and started slowly making his way towards a bed.   
“God... maybe.” He mumbled, as he collapsed onto the mattress. 

...

When he awoke, it was nighttime again. It was hard to tell underground but the sundial resting on the crafting table showed it was indeed night. A short moment of listening revealed the sounds of both Tommy and Tubbo snoring. Wilbur stood, and walked over to them. Ever since Tubbo had to be bed bound to recover from his injuries at the festival, Tommy had taken to sleeping in the same bed as him at night. Wilbur remembered why he was awake- he had to put a blanket over Tommy.  
He’d realized pretty early on that Tommy never disturbed the covers of Tubbo’s bed, wether that was for fear of hurting him or of causing him discomfort. So Tommy always curled up next to Tubbo, over the covers. He had caught a cold eventually, and one night Wilbur had found him, shivering in his sleep next to Tubbo. While it would be easy to just tell him to use the covers, Wilbur understood where Tommy was coming from. So every night for about a week and a half, Wilbur had been taking an extra blanket and placing it over Tommy as he slept. The extra warmth didn’t seem to bother Tubbo, and Tommy wasn’t catching colds anymore.  
As Wilbur draped the blanket over the two boys, he heard a scraping of stone. He turned, immediately on guard. He slowly crept back over to the stairs that led up to the surface. He could hear it more distinctly now. Footsteps.

“Techno?” He whispered, squinting in the darkness, looking for his brother.  
Instead of the pink hair and pig tusks he had been expecting, the first feature to appear from within the darkness was a pair of yellow, sideways eyes, followed swiftly by a large pair of horns.  
Wilbur stumbled back. “Schlatt?”  
Schlatt finally fully emerged from the dark, coming to stand on the same level as Wilbur. Wilbur noticed he was wearing a new suit, but his knuckles were bloody for some reason. Schlatt smiled. A different kind of smile than before. Any malice seemed to be have been replaced with... fatigue.   
“Hey, Loverboy.”  
Wilbur almost laughed at the absurdity and irony.  
“So after all those dramatics you decide to visit my new nation anyway. You planning on taking this one over too?” Wilbur asked, mostly joking, but unable to hide the slight edge of worry in his tone. After all, Schlatt wouldn’t have come here for no reason.

“Ahaha... not yet. Though when I do I think I’ll repaint the walls. Grey’s not my colour.” Schlatt said. He seemed so much less unhinged than the last time they spoke. If anything he seemed more... real.

Wilbur once again decided he had to be the one to get to the point. “Why are you here?”

Schlatt closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He seemed as if he was prepping himself to say something but couldn’t. Eventually, he spoke.  
“I’m here because I’ve finally decided what I really care about. And it’s not loyalty. And it’s not the ec- well, it’s a little the economy. But for the most part it’s you. Everything in my life that’s... that’s changed me, you’ve been there. You’ve always been there. I think... I think I didn’t realize until we spoke that... that you really, for the first time... weren’t there. And you know what, Loverboy...”  
Schlatt looked down, shaking his head and smiled, then looked back up, directly at Wilbur.  
“It was lonely.”


	4. Chapter 4

Wilbur was speechless. Never before had Schlatt been so open about anything. It was frankly off-putting.  
“Bet you wish you didn’t kick me out of my own country then.” Wilbur said bitterly.  
Schlatt sighed and leaned against the stone wall.  
“I’m conflicted on that, y’know? On the one hand there’s all the economic prosperity, all the cool shit I’ve made people build- that never would have happened with you there. But also... self interest or whatever.”  
A few metres away Tubbo made a sound in his sleep and rolled over. Wilbur turned to watch as a sleeping Tommy grabbed at the empty air until he found Tubbo again and resumed a peaceful slumber.  
No. This was not okay.  
Wilbur turned back to the ram, who was rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.  
“Don’t kid yourself, Schlatt.” Wilbur spat, taking a step closer. “There’s no nation versus you- it’s just you. You say it was lonely? Well who’s fault was that? You blew up your right hand man! You discarded your co-president. You don’t fucking care about anything except your god damn money! How can you expect people to care about you?”  
Wilbur was right up in Schlatt’s face now, using what little height advantage he had.  
Schlatt sneered, but his eyes lacked the malice they once had.  
He grabbed Wilbur by the collar of his trench coat and pulled him downwards so that they were exactly eye level.  
“Alright, fine. You wanna fuckin play it like this, I can play it like this. I don’t think you HEARD me, Loverboy. I don’t NEED you to care about me, I don’t need ANYONE to care about me! I care about you the same way I care about stocks and bonds, the same way I care about infrastructure. You’re mine to be possessed, you got that? I will stop at NOTHING until I OWN you. Until you’re MINE and ONLY mine.”  
Jschlatt gritted his teeth, but managed to smile.  
“Wouldn’t that be nice, huh? Just like the good old days.”  
Wilbur wrenched himself out of Schlatt’s grip and stumbled backwards.  
“You fucking psychopath.” He spat, shaken.  
Schlatt only laughed. “You call me a psychopath- but which one of us is horny for explosions, huh Loverboy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little elaborate plan.”  
Wilbur narrowed his eyes.  
“What are you even doing anymore Schlatt? If you know what my plan is then kill me, or do SOMETHING. You’re just... you’re just standing there! Wh- like, to assert your dominance or something? When did you stop making sense, I mean- I used to be able to talk to you!” Wilbur struggled to form coherent thoughts and sentences out of the mix of emotions bubbling over in his brain.  
Schlatt opened his mouth as if to say something, but then stopped. He considered for a moment, and then, much calmer than before he gritted out in a low tone:  
“Say it.”  
Wilbur almost laughed. “Say what? God you’re so dramatic!”  
Schlatt slowly walked over to Wilbur, in what could be described as a menacing fashion. Wilbur didn’t move though. Schlatt’s body language was tense and hate-filled, but his eyes seemed... weak.  
Schlatt slowly grabbed Wilbur’s face with one hand, and brought Wil’s ear down right to his lips, and whispered softly:  
“Just say you’re mine. And it all goes away.”  
Wilbur didn’t pull back this time, partially because he was interested in what Schlatt had to say and partially because a slow chill was rising up his spine.  
“You know I couldn’t, Schlatt.” He whispered, equally soft.  
He could feel Schlatt smile, their cheeks pressed together.  
“It’s not hard to do, Loverboy. Three simple words. Yes. Mr. President. And I take back everything you hate so much, give back everything you work for. That’s all you have to say. Easy, right?”  
Schlatt exhaled softly, blowing cool air on Wilbur’s neck.  
“So, Loverboy, you belong to me, right?”  
Wilbur’s jaw trembled. He didn’t know what to say. On the one hand he could have everything he’d ever wanted. On the other- Schlatt was playing some kind of long game. One that probably would leave Wilbur with the short end of the stick.  
It was hard to think though. He was suddenly aware of the warmth of Schlatt’s hand, the smell of alcohol and aftershave on his suit jacket, how soft his hair was compared to how rough his ears were. Wilbur felt like collapsing in on himself, closing his eyes and drowning in it all. But he knew Schlatt wasn’t thinking clearly either.  
Despite that, his mouth seemed to move of it’s own volition.  
“.....y- yes-“

THUD

A loud falling noise interrupted the thought, as Schlatt flinched, instinctively pulling away from Wilbur, and Wilbur jumped a little himself.  
Standing at the base of the stairway, clearly having just jumped down the whole flight, was Technoblade, hair wet and dirty with trident in hand.  
“And then Technoblade emerged from the shadows...” he said, dramatically swishing his cape. He then seemed to take in the scene.  
“Did I interrupt a weird sex thing? Were you guys doin a sex thing? Wilbur that’s kinda weird isn’t he, like, our mortal enemy or-“  
Wilbur groaned. “It’s not a sex thing, Techno! He’s just here to... intimidate me, or something.”  
Techno scratched the back of his head.  
“Well... he can’t just... be here right? Like I should drive him out or something, yeah? I feel like I’ve missed a plot point.”  
Schlatt seemed to regain his composure. “Don’t bother, pig, I’m leaving.”  
Schlatt ascended the stairs, Techno watching. When the last trace of the ram left pogtopia, Techno shrugged.  
“I feel like the pig comment was unnecessary but all in all I’m gonna count this as a win for the revolution!” He said, pumping his fist in the air.  
Wilbur held a finger to his lips, gesturing to the sleeping Tubbo and Tommy. He then slowly sat down against he wall, and put his head in his hands.  
“Techno... things are getting weird.”  
Techno put away his trident and opened the food chest.  
“Wanna talk about it? That’s what you do when things are weird, right? Talk about it with a neutral third party?”  
Wilbur groaned. “Yes, but let’s postpone that. I’m so tired, I need to sleep before anything else.”  
Techno shrugged again, downing a few baked potatoes, effectively mashing them against his tusks as he ate.  
“Alright, well have fun sleeping. I’ve got places to be.”  
Wilbur slowly crawled into a bed. “Like where? It’s the middle of the night.”  
Techno stood at the base of the stairs, prepped for departure. He turned back to face Wilbur.  
“You already know what I’m gonna say.”  
Wilbur smiled, and mumbled “The revolution waits for no man” as he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Wilbur awoke, eyes hurting and limbs sore, with all the same questions he’d gone to bed with. His dreams- well, he hadn’t gotten much rest. Tommy was out doing god knows what, and Tubbo was sitting upright in the bed, rebinding his bandages. When he noticed Wilbur was awake he smiled and waved with his less-injured arm.  
“Hey Wilbur! G’morning!”  
Despite himself, Wilbur smiled. Tubbo’s energy was infectious.  
“Mornin’ Tubbo. You sleep okay?”  
Tubbo nodded emphatically, ripping off the end of the bandage with his teeth and tucking it into the bind.  
“Really well! I’ve been waking up with errrr... more blankets than I went to bed with, but I’m not complaining!”  
Wilbur stood, and realized he’d slept in his everyday clothes. He sighed, too lazy to change and just started making his way towards the food chest.  
“Have you seen Technoblade at all, today?” He asked, grabbing a loaf of bread.  
Tubbo nodded his head, realized Wilbur wasn’t looking at him, and then said “Yeah he was here earlier this morning. He looked really burnt but also soaking wet. I think he’s been busy.”  
Wilbur nodded, pulling on his boots and lacing them up.  
“And Tommy?”  
“Left this morning to talk to Big Q. I’m really excited for their plan! I really feel like it’s gonna work! I mean, Jschlatt already seems to be going off the deep end a little bit so this is the best time to do it. Don’t you think?”  
Wilbur rubbed his dry eyes and stretched.  
“I think you’re right about Schlatt going off the deep end, Tubbo. He’s always been kind of an odd guy but he’s really put a nail in the coffin recently.”  
Tubbo nodded again, and then his eyes widened.  
“Oh, by the way Wilbur, look!”  
Wilbur turned, to see Tubbo standing by the bed on shaky legs.  
“I can walk!” Tubbo said triumphantly, taking small hobbling steps to the left and then to the right.  
Wilbur immediately rushed over to Tubbo to examine his leg.  
The right half of Tubbo’s body had taken the brunt of the explosion, and was recovering much slower than the rest of the boy.  
Wilbur crouched and examined Tubbo’s right knee to make sure nothing was out of place, and lightly prodded at the scar tissue to test it’s solidity. Tubbo winced a little and he wobbled slightly but he stood still.  
Wilbur stood and with a big smile he hugged Tubbo good and proper.  
As soon as Tubbo realized what was happening he hugged Wilbur back, squeezing him tight. Even now Wilbur could feel more strength in Tubbo’s left arm than his right, but it was a big improvement.  
Wilbur looked Tubbo in the eye and said “I’m really proud of you, Big T.”  
Tubbo beamed and said “We almost never have hugs nowadays. We should have hugs more often, don’t you think?”  
Wilbur nodded, and stood back to his full height.  
“Don’t over-exert yourself though, okay? I know it’s exciting but you’re still healing.”  
Tubbo made a ‘pshhhh’ sound and said “Okay _Dad_ , I’ll keep that in mind.”  
Tubbo, with minimal difficulty, got dressed and left through the tunnels. He didn’t seem prepped to climb stairs quite yet.  
“I’m gonna go visit Tommy wherever he is today!” He shouted from the lower levels.  
“Alright! Don’t do anything drastic yet or else you’ll end up right back in that bed!”  
Tubbo didn’t respond, so Wilbur assumed he’d left. Whatever, the kid was smart. He had foresight unlike a certain Tommyinnit.

Wilbur walked over to Tubbo’s bed to make the covers back up when he again heard a dramatic ‘THUD’  
Sure enough it was Technoblade, dripping wet and super tired-looking.  
“It was me the whole time!” He proclaimed, kicking off both his drenched boots.  
Wilbur looked at the boots, and then his soaked twin in front of him.  
“Why are you always wet?” He asked, rearranging pillows.  
Techno squeezed out his hair leaving a puddle on the floor.  
“Water travel by trident is the fastest way to get around. If I get a little damp on the way so what, y’know?”  
Techno flung his cape off into a nearby outcropping jut of rock, and sat down backwards on one of the chairs around the crafting bench.  
“So Wilbur... wanna talk about... stuff?”  
Wilbur sighed and sat on the bed.  
“Yeah but also no. It’s just all so weird and happening so fast.”  
Techno took his wet glasses out of his wet shirt pocket and put them on his wet face. It must’ve been impossible to see through them.  
“Don’t worry Wil- I went to school for this kinda!”  
Wilbur laughed, and said “Alright, well. Schlatt sent me a message the other day telling me to meet him at the podium. He was really aggressive and the situation was really tense and he was talking about how he didn’t want me in L’Manberg ever again-“  
“But weren’t you technically there?”  
“-without his permission.”  
“Ah I see. Carry on.  
“Well, I kinda had enough so I started going off on him about what an asshole he is, and then he... kissed me. Real hard. On my lips.”  
Techno took the glasses off “Wait what.”  
Wilbur nodded.  
“And then he came back here last night saying he was lonely without me and he wants to own me and if I let him then he pretty much said he’d give up L’Manberg. The weirdest part is I almost... said yes? I don’t know what any of it means anymore and I’m getting a little freaked out.”  
Techno pondered this.  
“You realize there’s no way to interpret this that isn’t at least a LITTLE kinky, right?”  
Wilbur groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed.  
“I’m aware, Techno, yes. But also... I didn’t exactly... dislike kissing him...?”  
Wilbur heard Techno stand up, and then heard the sound of water being wrung out of a large cape.  
“He’s got some weird Master thing going on though. He says he cares about me and can’t live without me and then is telling me to call him Mr. President and shit. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore.”  
The sound of heavy fabric hitting the ground echoed through Pogtopia.  
“Well... it could be that he’s experiencing real human emotion for the first time in, like, a while. Maybe he doesnt know how to deal with it except the same ways he deals with everything. He’s used to owning and ruling things he loves since they’re usually, like, scams and money. Maybe he’s trying to apply it to a person.”  
Wilbur sat up to see Techno stomping the water out of his shirt and cape.  
“That was a weirdly accurate guess.”  
Techno gestured wildly in a sort of ‘ehh’ way. “Told ya I went to school for this. Sort of. Whatever, it’s English.”  
Wilbur watched Techno stomping on his clothes for a bit. Water kept squelching out and dripping down into the lower levels.

“Oh shit, Techno, be careful, or else you’re gonna put holes in your clothes with your hooves again.”

Techno froze. “Oh noooooo.......” he said, hastily picking up his shirt. There was indeed a hole in it.  
Wilbur laughed and pointed at him.  
“How many TIMES Techno????” He said gleefully.  
Techno sighed. “This is the seventeenth shirt. Thirty ninth item of clothing.”  
Wilbur lost his shit laughing and slapping the bed. “HOW MANY TIMES HAS PHIL TOLD YOU TO STOP DRYING YOUR CLOTHES LIKE THAT??”  
Techno groaned and stuffed the shirt into his belt. He grabbed up his cape and started examining it for holes.  
Techno frantically thumbed the fabric “Nonononono I LIKE this cape.... I don’t want to have to make another oneeeeeeee.....”  
Wilbur wiped tears from his eyes and walked to a chest to grab Techno a new shirt.  
“THE FABRIC IS THINNNNNNNNNNN, WILBURRRRRRRR”  
Wilbur laughed again, and handed Techno the new shirt.  
“Why do you keep stomping on stuff if it breaks????”  
“BECAUSE ITS THE FASTEST WAY TO GET IT DRY IF I REMEMBER NOT TO STOMP TOO MUCH.”  
Wilbur wheezed and collapsed sitting on the crafting table.  
Techno grumbled and put the new shirt on, then attached the cape around his shoulders. He grabbed the end at twisted it so he could look at it.  
“That’s totally gonna rip if it gets caught on ANYTHING.”  
Wilbur stood up and looked at the section of fabric Techno was examining.  
“It’s literally the same as the rest of the cape.”  
“ITS NOT.”  
Wilbur sighed. “It totally is, you’re so dramatic.”  
Techno waved Wilbur away and dropped the cape.  
“Can we go back to your whole weird Jschlatt thing? I can’t afford to mourn for this cape right now.”  
Wilbur smiled and rolled his eyes. “It’s not even dead yet, Techno.”  
Techno continued waving his hands. “It’s over! The moment is over. Talk about the Schlatt thing!”  
Wilbur sighed and sat down on the bed again. “Fine, fine. Schlatt thing. I’m so very very conflicted.”  
Techno sat on the floor, clacking his boots together flinging water off.  
“Well... he seems to care about you. Do you care about him?”  
Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped.  
Techno looked up at Wilbur, noticing his silence.  
“Ahhhhhhhahahahaha! You don’t know! That’s what you gotta figure out.”  
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Genius advice, Techno, I never would’ve gotten there.”  
Techno put his boots back on and stood up.  
“Soul search or whatever. If you’re into his whole thing then do it. If you’re not, but you think he’s... I dunno... worth it? Find out how to snap him out of his weird funk because I can NOT drop dramatically out of the shadows every time he corners you.”  
Wilbur gave an awkward thumbs up and dropped his head. “Will do, Techno.”  
Techno nodded and turned to the stairs.  
“Well, gotta go. I’m working on a secret project, kinda. I’ll let you know.”

Wilbur looked back up at Techno. “You’re leaving already? Wait- did you drop by just so I could tell you about the Schlatt situation? You nosy motherfucker-“

“Can’t talk now! Important things to do, very important things!” Techno said, grabbing his trident.

Wilbur sighed and lay down again. “Alright, see you later.”  
He heard Techno walking up the stairs and then a splash and an unmistakable whoosh of a trident.  
Wilbur turned on his side and closed his eyes.  
Did he care about Jschlatt?  
Was the ram worth it?


	6. Chapter 6

G chord.

B-minor.

E-minor.

C.

Wilbur slowly and methodically worked on building up a melody. In the times when little was happening, there wasn’t much for the leader of the revolution to do. With Tommy and Tubbo off negotiating or building cobblestone towers or whatever, and Techno completely disappearing for days at a time, it left Wilbur alone to do what he did best- make funny sad music.

Clumsily he strummed the chords on his guitar, quietly singing the only verse he’d written.

“How on earth can I be saved

When I’m one button push away from insane,

I just think that I deserve

A little bit of what I earned....”

He wrote the words down in a little note pad, and continued trying to come up with lyrics. His heart just wasn’t in it though. His mind was somewhere else entirely. Absentmindedly he strummed the guitar as he thought.

Techno was right. The bastard might’ve dropped out of school but he definitely remembered at least a little of what he learned.

Wilbur hummed, thinking up melodies. “Hmmmm living the dream, hmm living the dream, from bah bah bah da da da da....”

How much time, how much energy, how much heart was he willing to put into Schlatt? Even back before he was president of L’Manberg, Schlatt was never easy to get through to. It’s like the man lived in his own little world where he was the king and truth was whatever he decreed it to be.

It definitely seemed that way sometimes. But there were other times when he was so... there. He was present and at attention and you knew he could hear you. The first time Wilbur had noticed was from afar, standing on a tall wooden platform, looking upwards as Schlatt proclaimed from his cobblestone monstrosity “LOOK, LOOK! LOOK WILBUR, YOU’RE NEVER GONNA CATCH UP!”

The words held one message, but the way he spoke, the sharpness in his eyes, held another. There had been no doubt that he was there. He wasn’t off on some adventure gallivanting around his own brain- he was standing there, listening. In that moment it had been important for Schlatt to reach out.

“I think about you every day.....

So how on earth can I be saved.....”

Wilbur sighed and hunched forward leaning his torso over his guitar. Oh, how much easier it would be to hate him. How fucking easy would that shit be. To be disgusted or offended or angry and hate him and have an answer. By all accounts he SHOULD be hating Schlatt.

Well, by most accounts. Little things kept jumping out though. The clean suit. The spacial awareness of his horns. The wistful gaze up at the sky. It seemed sometimes that the shell of a man that now went by Jschlatt still had moments. Moments of care. Moments of peace.

Wilbur closed his eyes and lay a hand on his own face. For the millionth time he slowly replayed the events of the night before in his head. Schlatt’s desperate demeanor. His lack of venom. Wilbur’s own willingness to go along. The offer of everything he’d ever wanted in return for a few simple words.

In a single moment, realization struck the mind of Wilbur Soot. He opened his eyes, shifting his hand to cover his mouth. His entire face was red with embarrassment, as well as.... another emotion.

Because that was it. He had been puzzling over why he had been so willingly about to go along with Schlatt’s offer, but it was simple. Schlatt could’ve said anything. Schlatt could’ve asked him where the tnt was under L’Manberg and Wilbur would’ve answered. Wilbur would’ve said Yes Mr President a thousand times because of COURSE he would. Because it was Schlatt. Wilbur could pretend all he wanted but there was no denying it- Schlatt had power over him. Power that came from the dull ache that appeared in Wilbur’s stomach whenever he came face to face with the ram. Power that came from the fact that apparently all Schlatt had to do was touch Wilbur’s face and suddenly Wilbur would’ve followed him to the end of the earth. God, it was so stupid. It was so fucking STUPID.

Wilbur stood up abruptly, his guitar tumbling to the floor. His fists were balled and his face was even redder. He gritted his teeth.

There couldn’t have been a worse time for any of this. Opposite sides of a war; of a revolution! By all sensible measure he could’ve listed Schlatt as his villain origin story.

Wilbur began pacing around the room, kicking over anything left on the floor. The ram was not a good person. Never really had been. Never pretended to be either. But there was joy in his eyes and in his voice. Joy and mirth and sometimes mischief and even sadism. Beyond that there was passion. He cared SO deeply about the things he did, and could care less if everything else burned.

Wilbur kicked over a bucket, thoughts swirling in is head. _It’s not worth it. HE’s not worth it. He’s an asshole. He’s your ENEMY. He fucked you over. He banished you from your own country. He scarred Tubbo. He drove out Quackity. He’s done terrible evil inexcusable things. He’s a TYRANT._

Wilbur leaned on his arm forward against a wall, his jaw quivering. He felt sick to his stomach. Schlatt was a bad person. That was an objective fact. And yet... There was no malice on his lips, no evil in the grip of his hands, no ill intent behind every shove and whisper.

Wilbur slowly sunk to the floor. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming behind his skull. In moments when nothing seemed to matter, when war was a bad dream and politics were just opinions, when it was quiet and dark his only witness was his own consciousness, thoughts of Schlatt wormed their way into his mind like a poison.

Like a sweet poison that you would keep drinking til the moment it killed you.

The way that if Schlatt were to open his arms, Wilbur would sink so deeply and completely into them that he might never stand again. The way that if Schlatt were to request anything, Wilbur would do it like the fucking puppy dog boy he was turning out to be. The way that Wilbur wanted to drown in the smell of Schlatt’s jacket so bad he could cry.

Wilbur let out a cathartic yell that rippled through pogtopia, echoing, bouncing off of walls with nobody else to stop it. He collapsed backwards onto the cold stone ground. He spread his arms wide open on either side of him and breathed deep.

If anything that answered his question. No longer would he have to wonder about if Schlatt was worth it. The day when Jschlatt is no longer worth it is the day that Wilbur stops breathing. That was the final verdict, and Wilbur could do nothing but lie in it, let it stew in his heart as he flattened himself against the ground.

 _Thirty seconds,_ he promised himself. _I’ll get up in thirty seconds._

Thirty seconds passed.

Then a minute.

Then five.

Soon a half hour had just whittled itself away, with Wilbur paralyzed and overwhelmed on the floor.

After thirty effort-filled minutes of lying completely still, Wilbur heard the sound of footsteps that snapped him out of his trance. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down through the levels of pogtopia. There, waving a book in hand was Tommyinnit, followed closely by Quackity and Tubbo. “WE’VE MADE A FULL PLAN, WILBUR!” Tommy yelled, grinning.

Wilbur looked at the three of them, Quackity especially. Part of this entire situation was Quackity’s fault, merging with Schlatt. But that’s not what Wilbur found himself frustrated about in that moment.

He sat up straight and reached for his guitar.

A-minor chord.

“Your new boyfriend’s an asshole.....”


	7. Chapter 7

There were buttons everywhere. Buttons built into every square inch of Pogtopia. Wilbur marvelled at how long it must’ve taken. He pushed a couple, most of them making a pleasant clicking noise. How funny. He knew this must’ve been Fundy’s doing. Only someone as skilled at craftsmanship as his son could pull something of this magnitude off in so little time. 

He wandered the halls of his underground nation, hearing the buttons clicking underneath his feet. He oughta blow it all up today. Today or tomorrow. Maybe the day after.

Whimsically Wilbur tried to balance on single buttons, playing a sort of hopscotch game with himself. 

He needed to be there to watch Quackity carry out his plan, yet Wilbur was dreading every second of it. Why did it have to be like this, the cornerstone of the plan hinging on the past relationship of the man who used to be Vice President, and his possessive lover.

Wilbur had taken some time. A lot of time in fact. Coming to grips with his feelings was a hard mental blow, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone about it yet. Part of him was worried he’d tell someone, and then the feelings would just go away, leaving him to rework the messy network of unnecessary support he’d have strung. And yet far more worrying was the possibility that they weren’t temporary, and despite everything that had happened, his ache for Schlatt went beyond momentary infatuation. 

Click, click. What a funny noise. It was unlikely any of the buttons were hooked up to anything, though the thought stopped Wilbur in his tracks. He now began walking around the buttons where he could. No need to take unnecessary risks. 

Techno was probably right. Schlatt’s view on love of people was definitely warped by his love of material. For god’s sake, look at the way he treated Quackity. Objectifying, didn’t care what he had to say, forced him to change on a whim. All sorts of terrible shit. Quackity would tell them all about it sometimes, half to exploit weak points and half to complain. Wilbur didn’t blame him though. It sounded very genuinely hard to deal with.

_But I could deal with it_ , a voice in his head pouted. _I could’ve dealt with it. Maybe you just weren’t good enough for him. Maybe he just didn’t love you that much, Big Q._

Wilbur knew it was petty and stupid, and in NO way Quackity’s fault. But the senseless jealous thoughts persisted, even worming their way into every day conversations, only kept at bay by Wilbur’s own desperate need to remain infallible.

Nobody takes your threats seriously if they know you’re lovesick. If Wilbur was to succeed in his plans, he would have to cast aside all thoughts of the ram, which was, as it turns out, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.

Every waking moment was branded with Schlatt’s stupid face in the back of Wilbur’s mind. Every time he closed his eyes, every moment not spent on planning specifically. Every night in bed trying to sleep, which admittedly led to some... shameful actions. 

The act itself wasn’t shameful, but the fact that it was perpetrated by the thought of J-FUCKING-SCHLATT...

It was enough to make a less susceptible Wilbur shudder. 

But on it continued and on living Wilbur went.

However, today was the day. He’d take his final stand here. Either he blew it up today or Quackity and Tommy’s plan succeeded. Those were the two options. Wilbur checked the time, and realized he was going to be late. He hurriedly tiptoed around the buttons and exited pogtopia. He had a business deal to oversee.

...

Schlatt didn’t give a shit about Quackity anymore. Wilbur could see it in his eyes. He was disinterested and unfazed. Wilbur felt a small triumphant rise bubbling in his stomach. _He doesn’t give a shit about you anymore, he wants ME_. Just as soon as he thought the words he shook his head.

No, he thought. Jschlatt is a bad fucking person, stop it with your middle school obsessing.

Wilbur then realized what was probably the more important aspect of this fact, which was that without an attraction to Quackity, this plan was less likely to work. 

Wilbur gripped the feathers at the end of his magic-tipped arrow. Invisibility. He drew the arrow back in the bow and readied himself for the worst. 

He couldn’t hear their negotiations, but judging by body language it wasn’t going well. Quackity was fidgeting and Schlatt was ignoring him in favour of lifting weights. What a silly silly scene. And yet so much was riding on this.

Suddenly their conversation became louder and audible to Wilbur as Schlatt began to yell.

“AND YOU KNOW WHAT I FOUND???”

Wilbur could see Quackity stammer out a response he was still too far away to hear.

“TNT UNDERNEATH MANBERG, THAT’S WHAT I FOUND. YOU WANNA EXPLAIN THAT, HUH???”

Wilbur froze.

Fuck.

Immediately all thoughts went out the window, consumed by a panic rising in Wilbur’s throat. He shot the arrow at Quackity and then immediately started running for the button. He didn’t care if Schlatt could see him. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered! He just needed to push the button.

He could see Tommy in his periphery running with invisible Quackity, only distinguishable by the arrow sticking out of what seemed to be his jacket.

He made eye contact with Schlatt for less than a second. 

But no time! No time no time no time. Wilbur all but crashed into the button room, and launched himself at the button. He pressed it with the full weight of his body.

And nothing happened.

Stunned Wilbur just stared at it for a second. What the fuck??

A dawning horror struck him as he quickly dug out the wall in front of him to confirm his suspicions.

The red stone was gone.

...

Things seemed to keep growing more and more complicated as time moved forward. Now Dream was with Schlatt? Wilbur couldn’t stop laughing about it. The very man who’d given Wilbur the tnt in the first place decided to up and leave? What a difficult job he’d made for himself.

And Fundy! God, Wilbur was so proud. The clever little fox had been keeping tabs on the old man. Like a good and proper spy!!! 

If Wil had any peace of mind he’d have swept Fundy up in a hug and wouldn’t have let go until his arms gave out. But as he was coming to realize about himself, peace of mind was a department dear old Soot was severely lacking in.

For better or worse Wilbur was still the leader of Pogtopia. He could see his son’s eyes shimmer when Wilbur had laughed. That’s all it took. Soon everyone was laughing and interrupting. Following example, one might say. Fundy was crushed. It was written all over his face, plain as day. 

The info from Wilbur’s son was not unhelpful though. It lent a lot of context to Wilbur’s earlier observations about the ram. He was indeed getting thinner. Weaker. Drinking himself to fucking lunacy. 

_You can save him_ , the voice said. _You can be the one who brings him back from the brink_.

But why would he do that? Why would he save the man who, now more than ever, stood squarely as his enemy? There was no reason to do so, no reason at all.

It was night time once more, and the whole of Pogtopia, now with a new fox member, was asleep. Tommy and Tubbo in their bed, Quackity in his and Fundy in Wilbur’s. 

Wilbur stood at the entrance of Pogtopia. He didn’t bother blocking it off as he left, taking Techno’s horse and riding the distance, all the way to Manberg.

In all honesty he didn’t quite know why he was going. What was he expecting, a fucking apology? And what if Dream was there? What then? 

_ It doesn’t matter. _

_ You can’t let the next time you see him be on the battlefield. _

_ You need to speak to him. _

And so Wilbur pushed forward.


	8. Chapter 8

Arriving in Manberg, Wilbur dismounted the horse and tied it up right outside city limits. The moon was high, almost directly overhead. Wilbur trekked through the soft grass, muddy from the water beneath it. Almost unthinkingly he went up to the podium, where he’d spoken to Schlatt that first night. 

What was he expecting, Schlatt to be there? Wilbur hadn’t even said anything about his whereabouts to the ram. Potentially if he got caught here it was game over.

Wilbur heard voices approaching,

And quickly wedged his body behind the water outpour at the base of the podium. He could hear people walking above him, engrossed in a conversation.

“Do you have any idea at all? Literally any plan?” A higher-toned voice inquired. Unmistakably Dream.

“Hey buddy, I thought it was YOUR job to make the plans, and MY job to follow them, huh??” Schlatt barked, clearly exhausted.

Dream sighed. “I shouldn’t have let your presidency continue past the first week.”

Schlatt made a kind of snorting sound. “Oh PLEASE. You couldn’t even dethrone me now with your fuckin god powers and your army of six-to-nineteen year olds. Besides you didn’t even run the election, that was W-“ Schlatt stopped speaking suddenly, as if stumbling onto a subject he didn’t intend on speaking about.

The tonal shift from Dream was immediate.

“Oh RIGHT... Wilbur Soot. What do you call him again, huh? Loverboy? Don’t act surprised, I know you try not to say it but you slip up all the time. You’re deteriorating.”

Schlatt cleared his throat. “It’s just a nickname. We’ve known each other for a long time. What do you care anyway? Aren’t you simping for that fucking vice-vice-President? Colourblind motherfucker, yeah?? How’s that any different???”

Dream made a short laughing sound. “So you admit it, you feel about him the same way I do about George.”

Schlatt snapped his fingers. “George! That was his name! Fucking Gogy, huh? Whatever. You work for me, not the other way around, so get the fuck out of here.”

There was silence, and then the sound of retreating footsteps.

Dream spoke from a distance, in a lilting tone “Whatever you say...... Mr. President.”

And then the footsteps retreated out of earshot.

Wilbur tried to slowly exit his hiding place and make his way back to the horse. Clarity had struck him and he was suddenly hyper aware of the danger he was in. 

The water caused him to slip as he was climbing up, and he landed on the stage, stomach first, legs dangling off. He quickly scrambled up and planted his feet on the wood.

Schlatt was looking at him. Staring even. They both just stared at each other for a solid ten seconds as they tried to process how the other would react. Even how they themselves would react.

The first to break the silence was Schlatt, who smiled and said “.......You came back for me.”

He strode across the stage with such momentum that Wilbur tried to back up, but ended up pushing his back into a large wooden column. Schlatt spanned the gap between them and in one swift move he grabbed Wilbur’s face and kissed him. 

Wilbur melted immediately, draping his arms around the ram’s shoulders. Wilbur could feel Schlatt’s hand on the back of his head, slowly uncoiling the few curls that remained in his hair as he continued slowly making his way further into Wilbur’s mouth.

Wilbur’s knees almost buckled, but he braced himself against the pillar, as Schlatt pressed his body even further forward onto Wilbur’s. Wilbur could feel Schlatt’s heart beat, thrumming quickly and nervously, just as he was sure his own was.

Schlatt was making low short noises in the back of his throat that were driving Wilbur crazy, and Wilbur almost completely gave in to everything he’d been struggling with.

Almost.

He pulled back for a moment, and he looked Schlatt in the eyes. For the first time in Wilbur’s memory, Schlatt’s eyes were weak. He stared with complete vulnerability up at Wilbur.

That’s the moment it hit him. No matter how love sick Wilbur felt, Schlatt was afflicted just the same. He might’ve spoken it under the guise of power and rules and possession, but it was _the same_. They stood on even ground, both held back by what they believed in, both trying to have their cake and eat it too.

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he was about to say.

“Schlatt, I- I came here to tell you something.. something uh.... something important...”

Schlatt took a hand and placed it on the side of Wilbur’s face, a look of what could’ve been admiration on his face. “God, who fucking cares, Loverboy? Isn’t this better than talking?”

He leaned forward and kissed Wilbur again, extracting a truly embarrassing sound from Wil. But again Wilbur pushed him away and looked him in the eyes.

“Schlatt, you....”

Schlatt looked upwards to face Wilbur. “What? What is it?”

Wilbur took a shaky breath.

“You... will NEVER.... be my president.”

Immediately Schlatt fell back as if he’d been stuck across the face. His eyes hardened and his mouth twisted into a snarl. Wilbur stood tall again, surprised at what he’d just said. But it was the truth. 

Jschlatt was trembling, with fear, sadness, or anger it was unclear. His jaw was clenched and his ears were turned all the way upwards.

“I fucking see how it is. YOU THINK IM SOME KIND OF FUCKING IDIOT? YOU THINK I WON’T FUCKING KILL YOU FOR THIS SHIT? What, what, you- you come here to fucking bait me??? To prove some god damn point? Cuz I’ll tell you what, _Wilbur Soot_ , this doesn’t fucking change anything. You think I don’t own your ass??? Huh??? You think I don’t control every second of your FUCKING LIFE? I could call Dream over here _right now_ and your little revolution is OVER.”

“Then do it.” Wilbur said. His voice was steady but his hands were shaking.

Jschlatt froze. The fury in his eyes remained but no sound came out of his mouth. Slowly tears started to form in his eyes, and he turned away before Wilbur could see. But Wilbur had seen. He’d seen all the raw confusion that came along with as well.

Schlatt didn’t understand- he couldn’t comprehend what was wrong. Wilbur knew the ram had been mixed up and trod on and fucked over too many times to know what love was, but that wasn’t an excuse to let him do whatever he wanted.

Wilbur thought back to what Techno had said. Wilbur definitely cared enough about Schlatt to force him to change. He knew the both of them would be better off for it, and this was how it started. By forcing Schlatt to recognize that he cared about Wilbur as something more than property.

Schlatt clearly was not taking it well, though. Wilbur’s chest ached seeing the ram in such turmoil. But he knew it had to be done.

Wilbur cleared his throat, and did his best not to sound shaky.

“My beliefs are just as important as yours. I built this country, and no matter how- how I FEEL about this- about... you. I know I deserve to be at the head of this country, and not you. I... I’ll see you on the sixteenth, Schlatt.”

Wilbur turned and walked away, not waiting for a response. That didn’t matter, there was no response anyway. Only an animalistic hurt in Schlatt’s eyes as he watched Wilbur go. 

Wilbur knew they both understood that as things were, they could never have the kind of relationship they both wanted. Unless something changed drastically, the lives they’d both lived were leading them down separate paths, with little room for compromise.

As he mounted the horse and began riding back to Pogtopia, he wondered if there was even a future where any of this worked out in the end.

A realer part of him knew that as long as the two of them were alive, this conflict, the disparity in what they both stood for, would never cease. It was stupid, but he could’ve sworn to god, that single thought made him feel like someone drove a spike into his chest. 

_ Now you know he loves you though. _

_ Now you know he loves you. _


	9. Chapter 9

If there was one thing Wilbur understood it was time. Dates and clocks, calendars and watches. Time didn’t change no matter who was in power, and it definitely wasn’t changing as the sixteenth of November was approaching. 

“There is a traitor among you” the green man had said. What a prick. Taking away Wilbur’s grand reveal just cuz he was getting left out of all the interesting stuff. Sometimes it seemed like it was all a game to Dream. He changed sides on a whim, his only benefit a twisted sense of importance. As soon as Wilbur’s turmoils got boring, off the green boy went, prancing over to the other side of the war without a care in the world. In some odd warped way, it seemed like while the rest of them were playing checkers, Dream was simultaneously playing chess AND connect 4, and somehow winning at both. 

Wilbur lay in his bed, the darkness of pogtopia not oppressive, but certainly present. He could hear the low soft breathing of Tommy and Tubbo to his left, and Quackity to his right. At this rate they were going to run out of beds. He couldn’t hear it, but Wilbur could imagine Fundy sleeping up on the next level of their hideout. Tail twitching and ears perking and relaxing, his son seemed to be sleeping peacefully for the first time in a long while.

The same could not be said for Wilbur. He lay in his bed, trying not to move, trying to force all thoughts out of his head so he could sleep. Obviously it was no use. The thought of Jschlatt invaded his mind like a parasite. His soft hands, the hunger in his voice. How easy it was to collapse into his arms. In the years since Wilbur had spoken casually to Schlatt, a lot had changed about the ram. Things Wilbur was only noticing now that Schlatt was the only topic in his mind. His jaw had become a lot stronger. Wilbur lifted his hand in the air above him, invisible in the darkness. He slowly mimed tracing the angle of Schlatt’s face, and could swear he felt the cool skin and unkempt hair that had become such a trademark beneath his fingers. Wilbur let out a shaky breath and let his hand fall to his chest. 

How pitiful was this. How absolutely idiotic. Schlatt would’ve stayed with him. Schlatt would’ve given everything up for Wilbur. At least, that’s what he said. There was a clear implication that any power Wilbur would retain was performative at best. An eternity acting as Schlatt’s puppet... as his little dog boy, ready to both get on his knees and make political speeches alike. The thought sent shivers of anxiety down Wilbur’s spine. That’s not what he wanted, he knew that for sure. But then why... why did he keep coming back to those eyes. The vulnerability in them. Schlatt wasn’t thinking about politics or shadow governments in that moment, at least... Wilbur didn’t think he had been. No, he knew Jschlatt. As good a businessman he is, he can’t disguise his emotions for shit. If he was up to something you knew, if he was angry you knew, if he was lying to you... that’s the only thing you could never tell. 

Wilbur turned over in his bed to lie on his side. He clasped his shaking hands together in an attempt to steady himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing anyone thoughts out of his mind. Quiet quiet quiet. Just sleep, please.

His thoughts became foggy as they all faded into a grey background. And then a flash, the intoxicating feeling of Schlatt gently running his hand through the back of Wilbur’s hair. Another flash, the desperation that the ram had flung himself onto Wilbur with. Flashes of moments, of feelings and memory filled Wilbur’s entire body up with such an intense need that it pulsed and throbbed in his stomach. Wilbur abruptly stood from the bed, wrenching the covers off of himself. It was no use, he couldn’t sleep like this.

He trudged slowly down the remaining two levels of pogtopia to the mirror hanging at the base of the very bottom of the staircase and stared at himself in the dim torchlight. The bags under his eyes were darker and larger. Nothing he couldn’t attribute to his supposed unraveling. 

He glanced up and over at the row of beds and could almost see the vague outline of Quackity, sleeping soundly. A hot jealousy bubbled in his chest but he forced it down. 

All that is over now. Quackity never really loved Schlatt, and Schlatt... well, Wilbur could only hope. Quackity would tell stories of the shitty and objectifying things Schlatt did and said, but he would also tell different stories. Later at night when maybe some of the younger members of their band of rogues were sleeping. Stories about gifts and whispers and gentle pats on the head and the edge of an ear bitten softly. Things that didn’t line up with Wilbur’s preconceived notion of Jschlatt. With every description Wilbur found it harder not to squirm from hearing someone speak it aloud. Partially from the detest surrounding having to hear it, and partially from the excitement it gave him to imagine it. 

Wilbur retreated under the upper floors into the dark, disappearing from even his own eyes, until he found himself backed up against a cold stone wall. For a moment Wilbur closed his eyes and imagined indulgently, just a simple whisper in his ear. The words were indistinguishable, but the low tone was unmistakable. Wilbur slowly sunk to the floor, back against the wall, eyes still closed til he was sitting on the floor, head turned upwards. 

He could almost feel the warmth of the ram’s body against his own, how the two of them almost seemed to fit together. He could feel Schlatt brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead with a thumb, and then continue running his hand through the rest of Wilbur’s hair. He could almost feel the fingers gently tracing their way along his scalp. 

He could imagine the gentle shapes traced on his stomach, slowly looping around his waist. 

Wilbur let out a sigh that was just a little too audible, and then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. He reached downward with his other hand.

He could feel Schlatt kissing him, tilting Wilbur’s head at just the right angle. Wilbur was vaguely aware of his right hand moving independently of the one covering his mouth, moving up and down slowly but he was already swept away in the fantasy of things that had already come to pass.

The ferocity with which Schlatt made out with Wilbur, as if the moment it was over his whole life would be over, the way he seemed consumed with a passion that was so rare to him. Wilbur had felt Schlatt’s hips slowly moving on top of his own, a sensation which his brain readily recreated for him now.

He let out a desperate sound, and found himself removing the hand from his mouth, now slick with condensation from his heavy breath and applying it downwards. He took his other hand and found himself gently biting his wrist. _Shhhhhhhh_ , a voice told him in his mind, and then suddenly it was Schlatt’s voice, low and calm and armed with the knowledge that he was the one with control. _Be quiet or you’re gonna let everyone know about your secret. How embarrassing would that be for you, hm?_

The quiet whimpers Wilbur was suppressing just reminded him of the low breathing sounds Schlatt had made. It could’ve been a reflex or even a vocal tic but it didn’t matter. It was like a soft humming that appeared in short bursts, paired with his exhales. A sound that was just close enough to a sound of pleasure that it could’ve fooled Wil. 

As short sounds became longer and quiet sounds became louder just for a few moments Wil’s brain exploded in pleasure, a short gasp wrenched from his throat and a perfect beautiful world in his mind.

But as things often are, it was all ruined the minute he landed back on earth. 

What the FUCK was he doing? Fucking sitting in the dark jacking off to some idiot who hadn’t even decided if Wil was worth the time yet? Wilbur angrily sighed and discordantly cleaned himself up. A hot shame burned in his cheeks. He had a war to prepare for. For gods sake it was his literal ENEMY. 

In all of this, a small spark of hope was dashed. Even now, Schlatt was occupying Wilbur’s mind. After all of that, the ram remained. If nothing else it proved Wilbur’s feelings went beyond infatuation. How... inconvenient.

Wilbur slunk back to his own bed eventually, eyes even drier than before and bundled himself up to the shoulders in the covers. Maybe he just wouldn’t get up tomorrow. He’d say he’d probably come down with something. Some bug. He could say he had a stomach ache.

Technically it would be true.


	10. Chapter 10

Tomorrow.

Wilbur awoke in a hot sweat, ripped from a dream that he could not remember. November fifteenth. The air swirled thickly around him, obscuring his thoughts and his breathing. He almost choked on his own lungs, he felt like he was burning up. He flung the covers off of his body, the air hitting his bare chest and legs but providing no cooling or relief. Stumbling and sleep deprived, he immediately stormed up the stairs in search of fresh air. He was unaware of someone stirring behind him.

Wilbur threw his body against the weak dirt that disguised the entrance to pogtopia and found himself sprawled on the ground in his underwear. He inhaled the grass, dew all over his face. He turned over to lie on his back, making snow angel movements sweeping the dew off of the surrounding blades of grass. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, staring directly upwards at the stars, lazily counting them with half-open eyes.

“Mind if I join you?”

Wilbur bolted upright into a sitting position, and found himself locking eyes with Quackity. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was only in his boxers as he looked at Big Q’s giant t-shirt and sweatpants. The pants were cinched the tightest they would go, but were still slipping off his hips. None of what he was wearing fit him, it seemed doubtful the pants even belonged to him, and Wilbur realized with a chill running down his spine that they must’ve belonged to Schlatt. His impulse was to scowl and scoff and wave Quackity off dismissively. Their alliance was only that- an alliance. Wilbur opened his mouth to say something about needing alone time or fresh air or something, but what came out was “Not at all.”

The two seemed equally surprised at this answer, but Quackity did indeed sit down next to Wilbur, closed his eyes, and then let his torso fall backwards onto the grass. Wilbur stared at Quackity for a few moments, bewildered if nothing else, then lay down again himself.

The two absorbed the moonlight and mist in silence. Wilbur could hear Quackity breathing. He was breathing so fast... without thinking Wilbur half sat up and twisted over sideways, steadied himself with his hands on Quackity’s torso, and placed his ear on Quackity’s chest. Wilbur could feel him twitch in surprise but didn’t move away.

_Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump_ , Big Q’s heart was hammering away.

Wilbur lifted his head and looked at Quackity. There was, understandably, confusion. But there was something else. An odd softness that reminded Wilbur of something. However, it was overtaken with an unmistakable look of worry. Wilbur sighed, and latched onto the latter.

“Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you scared about tomorrow?”

Quackity lifted a hand to his forehead, accidentally grazing Wilbur’s chest along the way. Seemingly embarrassed Quackity averted his gaze and then cleared his throat. 

“I mean duh... who wouldn’t be? We’re gonna fight Dream, man. That’s a lot more than I’ve, like, EVER done.” 

Wilbur’s arm wobbled a little, and without thinking he allowed himself to collapse onto Quackity’s chest again, arms in a kind of square naturally folded around his sideways head. Fuck, he was so tired. With his face against Big Q’s chest he could smell the t-shirt. Wilbur closed his eyes and inhaled, trying not to seem too desperate. Of course it smelled like Schlatt. That amount of cigarettes and aftershave doesn’t just come out with a few washes. He pretty much nestled into Quackity, not thinking at all anymore about the person he was leaning on. He just took slow inhales, so slow it might’ve mimicked sleep. 

He was interrupted by the feeling of someone slowly running their hands through his hair. He lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes to see Quackity almost mesmerized, slowly and gently finger-combing his curls. Big Q’s gaze drifted down to meet Wilbur’s, and then immediately back to his hair, a soft pink rising to his cheeks.

And then Wilbur understood. The softness. The heartbeat. Quackity had feelings for him. Wilbur almost laughed. Of all people, why him? Why did you pick the war-ruined, moral fucked, trigger happy leader of the revolution, Quackity, huh? Seemed completely illogical. But at this point Wilbur knew well enough that logic almost never had anything to do with it. Distracted from this realization, Wilbur found himself letting out a soft sigh as Big Q’s fingers moved through his hair. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back down. He inhaled the scent of the shirt again. The darkness taking up his field of vision was soon replaced by the memory of Schlatt’s hand in Wilbur’s curls, and his eager imagination got to work. Was it a terrible thing to do? Maybe. Could he stop himself? Probably. But why would he want to? Eyes closed and senses full, Wilbur could easily convince himself it was Schlatt he was resting on. Schlatt who’s heart was racing. Schlatt who was playing with his hair. The thought begun to tug at Wilbur’s subconscious, and not completely involuntarily, he lifted his body and twisted himself forward to meet Quackity at face level, and immediately dropped himself into a kiss.

Wilbur could hear Quackity make a soft sound of surprise, but all he could hear was Schlatt’s low grumbling intonations. Quackity quickly and easily completely melted at Wilbur’s advance, and was hungrily kissing him back. Wilbur’s eyes remained closed, all he could see was Schlatt, all he could hear, all he could feel. He reached down and slid his hand up from the bottom of the tshirt, hand gripping Quackity’s waist at the skin. The hand in his hair was less organized and more desperate. Wilbur could feel him clinging to the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. Every step of the way, his conscious mind yelled at him _No no no no no!_ But he couldn’t hear it. Wilbur could feel a stiffness beneath Quackity’s sweatpants and felt gratification. He’d done this, after all. His mind continued to only see Schlatt. Wilbur felt Quackity reach past the elastic of his boxers, only to not find the same eagerness that he’d been expecting. 

Wilbur opened his eyes, and actually looked at Quackity. Big Q was still blushing, but it seemed for a different cause. The moment he opened his eyes, the moment the spell was broken, Wilbur couldn’t help but recoil. He didn’t want this. Wilbur scrambled back from Quackity, maybe a little too vigorously. Seeing this, Quackity hastily rolled over, wrenching his body further away from Wilbur and lay sideways in the grass. Wilbur could only see Quackity’s back, as his legs were tucked to his chest.

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing.” Quackity mumbled. 

Wilbur could feel heat rising to his own cheeks as he turned the opposite way, and lay on his side facing away from Quackity.

“B- Quackity it doesn’t have anything to do with you-“

“BUT IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH SCHLATT, RIGHT?”

Wilbur’s eyebrows flew up reactively, as he rolled back over into a sitting position to see Quackity standing over him, eyes glisteny as if tears were behind them. 

“You’re not very fucking sneaky, Wilbur. Maybe you think you are because your target audience to avoid is a fucking pig and three children, but I worked in MANBURG where, like, two out of three people were spies, alright??? You- you’re not fucking fooling anyone! You know you mumble his name when you sleep, right? I think I’m the only one close enough to hear it... but it still fucking happens!”

Wilbur was completely taken aback, as Quackity slowly sunk to his knees, dirt and grass embedded in his shins.

“But I just... I just can’t help it Wilbur. You- you’re like him if he was what I wanted him to be. I can deal with unhinged, I can deal with fucking crazy, I can-! I... you’re just... you’re so much like the persona he puts forward to trick people into thinking he’s decent. The side of him that I started out loving... It’s too much, it’s too fucking much! I can’t-“

Wilbur could only take in this info pieces at a time. His mind was all over the place.

Clearly he hadn’t been stealthy enough but... how close must Quackity have been paying attention to notice all these things? And the idea that... that he was like Schlatt at all... but no. He wasn’t. Schlatt was like him. If Schlatt’s likeable persona behaved like Wilbur then... then Schlatt’s infatuation had long preceded the election. Holy shit. But Wilbur shook these thoughts out of his head as he refocused on Quackity, who was still speaking.

“I’m such a fucking asshole, I don’t- I’ve been wearing these clothes waiting for the right moment- the- the right time to, fuck, I guess, trick you?? That sounds so bad fuck fuck fuck- I just- I know you love him! A fucking lot, apparently, and if I could- if I could remind you of him, the same way YOU remind me of him... then maybe you’d love me. Just for a second, for a FUCKING SECOND. God, I know that’s shitty that’s so shitty Jesus Christ I’m sorry Wilbur. Fuck, this is so stupid.”

Quackity buried his face in his hands shamefully. Wilbur felt a rapid fire queue of emotions run through his brain. Shame, anger, embarrassment, anger again, burniNG FUCKING ANGER! Not only did Quackity KNOW about his feelings towards Schlatt, he’d tried to take ADVANTAGE OF THEM??? What the FUCK. Wilbur again opened his mouth to shout, to say SOMETHING, to let Quackity know what a shitbag he was, to... to say ANYTHING.

No words came out of his mouth, and he was just frozen there, quivering with rage but unable to vocalize it. Quackity looked up at Wilbur, his eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. Instantly, somehow, all of Wilbur’s anger left him. As hard as he tried, Quackity was no master of manipulation, no trickster or liar. The shame of what he had done was clear on his face and in his eyes, his body language reflecting it unmistakably. Wilbur sighed. He lay down again, and rolled onto his back. “Lie down.” He said. Quackity obliged, trembling.

“Listen, Quackity. I think you know this, because you said it yourself, but you don’t... love me. Alright? You were manipulated and scarred by a bastard of a man. You love a version of him that hasn’t existed for a long time, and probably never will again. And... I think I might, too. But Quackity, at the risk of sounding hypocritical, you need to let him go. I’m not him and I’ll never be him in the way you want me to be, and you- you’ll never be him in the way I want you to be. He’s become a monster, and that kind of person... doesn’t deserve you. Deserve either of us.”

Wilbur took a shaky breath, and during that pause Quackity laughed. The sound of the laugh was thick with snot and tears but it didn’t sound spiteful.

“I can’t believe the guy who’s about to blow up his own country is giving me mental health advice.”

Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Yeah, it’s a little absurd. Makes you think though, right? If I’m sane enough to talk to you about this maybe I’m sane enough that my plan actually makes sense?”

Wilbur could hear Quackity shake his head, swishing through the grass.

“No you’re absolutely batshit. Don’t think you can get out of that one you motherfucker, you better not blow that shit up. But you won’t have to if we win, right?”

Wilbur felt a lump appear in his throat. 

“Right.” He said, thankful that Quackity couldn’t see his face. He cleared his throat.

“So until then you promise me- we’ll promise each other. We’re letting the ram go. Yeah?”

There was silence and the sound of bugs buzzing and water flowing. A deep sigh could be heard from off to Wilbur’s right.

“Yeah.”

Despite himself Wilbur smiled. This seemed like a conversation that needed to be had. Quackity seemed a lot less restless immediately and Wilbur could hear his breathing steady. He had no doubt in his mind that Quackity would keep his promise. And for that matter so would Wilbur. After all, promises are easy to keep when you only have to live by them for another twenty four hours.


End file.
